Many Questions, No Answers
by Bombastrap
Summary: A one-shot of Grantaire's unrequited love for Enjolras. I normally ship E/R really hard, but I couldn't figure out a way to fit Enjolras into it without really breaking his character. I tried as much as I could to fit it to the book, but I think in the end it ended up like the musical. Enjoy!


**A/N: I know that Bosset can read, but I had the inspiration and went with it. Bosset is supposed to be really unlucky, though he is supposed to be able to read. I'm not sure if he got any proper school training. **

Enjolras sat at a table on the second floor of the cafe, scribbling on various sheets of paper and then throwing them aside. Grantaire leaned against the wall, not drinking, but holding a bottle of wine to his chest. Enjolras had been too distracted to kick him out of the cafe, and Grantaire was surprisingly sober, though the only thing he thought of was Enjolras. The sky was just beginning to darken, though Enjolras didn't notice. He would work straight into the next day if he had to.

Suddenly he stood, throwing down his pen with an agitated yell. Grantaire jumped a little, "Wha?" Enjolras ignored him, starting to pace the cafe, muttering to himself. There was a loud crash from outside, jolting Granatire again. Enjolras, who seemed calm, as ever, looked up.

"Enjolras!" Courfeyrac yelled from the street below, "Enjolras, the gun powder!"

Grantaire thought he heard Enjolras swear, but all he could focus on was that beautiful face...

Enjolras interrupted Grantaire's thoughts by accidentally stepping on his foot as he hurried to the stairs leading out of the cafe.  
"Enjolras, we just got these guns from a person who...prefers to remain anym...an..." Bosset tried, squinting down at the paper that he held in his hand.

"It says anonymous, Bosset." Feuilly said, grabbing the paper.

"I knew that," Bosset muttered.

Enjolras bent down to inspect the guns, "No cartridges," he muttered, straightening. "What was that bang I heard earlier?" he asked.

"That was Bosset." Courfeyrac answered quickly, ready to blame everything on someone else.

Enjolras looked at Bosset, who shrugged helplessly, "The boxes of cartridges fell when I was bringing this box over." He nudged the box of guns with his foot. Enjolras sighed. "How many are left?" He asked the group at large.

"About half...or three quarters." Combeferre said, looking slightly embarrassed. "We're sorry, Enjolras."

"It's fine," Enjolras said, controlling his anger. "Save whatever you can, fill the guns, put them with the rest." He turned on his heel and walked back to the cafe. If anyone was watching him closely, they would have noticed that his hands were clenched.

Grantaire had moved from his position against the wall to the chair that Enjolras had just left. Enjolras slumped into the chair and put his face in his hands. Grantaire, who had finally opened the wine bottle and was starting to feel the effects of the drink, though he noticed that Enjolras's shoulders were shaking. Unsure of what to do, he just sat there, staring at the green bottle. Finally, he held it out to Enjolras.

Enjolras looked up. He looked as helpless as a puppy who had gotten itself into Thenardier's kitchen. Without a word he grasped the wine bottle and took a long drink. Setting the bottle on the table, he ran his fingers through his hair with an embarrassed smile. Grantaire grinned back, happy that Enjolras had not reprimanded him. Enjolras patted Grantaire on the shoulder rather vaguely and got up to find something in the back room of the cafe.

"How can you?" Grantaire muttered, a few hours later. His speech was not slurred, though he had gone through two bottles of wine and was almost done with his third.

"Sorry?" Enjolras said, snapping out of a reverie.

"How can you talk of the future and overthrowing whatever you're trying to overthrow when you could be running after girls? How can you sit inside all day, even when the sun shines bright and there is a nice breeze coming from the West? How do you not notice the women falling head over heels for you? How can you dedicate your life to only one thing? And how is it that the one thing that you're dedicated to allows no freedoms, even though you're fighting for freedom?! Why do you ignore love like it is a dead rat in the sewers? Love is such a fine, free, pleasure, why do you deny it? How can you..." he trailed off.

Enjolras sat silently for a moment, then said quietly, "I don't know." he said quietly, "I don't know."

"You don't have to," Grantaire whispered, twisting his bottle around and around in his hands. Enjolras looked up sharply. "What?" he asked, but Grantaire jumped up and smashed his lips against Enjolras's. Enjolras quickly pushed him away, "You're drunk, Grantaire." he said scornfully, pushing past the drunk and striding out of the cafe.

**A/N: I haven't written in a while, but I'm really proud of this. :)**


End file.
